


The Art of Gift Wrapping

by Femeris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acceptance, Christmas, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femeris/pseuds/Femeris
Summary: “It’s bad enough you use wrapping paper,” Draco sneered.Harry frowned.“What else would I use?”“My mother used cabbage.”For a second, Harry’s brain short-circuited. Surely this wasn’t a Wizarding holiday tradition that he’d missed?“Cabbage,” he repeated.Draco looked up, already with an unimpressed expression.“Not what you’re thinking, moron—the leftover scraps of fabric from sewing projects. Cabbage.”-In which Draco wraps Christmas presents, is adopted by the Weasleys in true Weasley-fashion, Harry and Pansy have a heart-to-heart, Narcissa offers an olive branch, and all Harry and Draco ever wanted for Christmas was each other anyway.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley (Background), Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley (background) - Relationship, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (background), Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson (background), Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood (background)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. Cabbage

**Author's Note:**

> I write Harry and Draco to be Unbelievably sappy, and I absolutely will not apologize for it.

Harry stacked his almost Dudley-sized pile of gifts next to the kitchen table, whereupon two rolls of wrapping paper, a pair of scissors, and a roll of tape were laid out and waiting. He stood back with his hands fisted on his hips, and took a deep breath to prepare himself. 

Including Teddy, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Luna, Neville, Professor McGonagall, Andromeda, and every single Weasley, Harry had twenty-one gifts to wrap before tomorrow when he distributed them all either by Owl, or at the Burrow. 

Harry nodded to himself, and rolled out some wrapping paper across the table before picking up the first present to be wrapped; a box of chocolate snitches for Ron. He placed the box in the middle, and cut along the edge of the roll. Afterwards, he immediately encountered a problem when the paper didn’t full meet in the middle of the box. 

That’s okay though, right? He could just...cut out a smaller panel of wrapping paper and cover the gap. Perfectly acceptable. 

He was just securing the first bit of tape when Draco walked into the room. Harry looked up at him and smiled at the sight of him, holding two steaming mugs. Draco, however, was wearing an expression of a raised eyebrow and slightly curled lip, not unlike the one he wore whenever Harry left his laundry laid over the back of the chair in their bedroom. 

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, stopped on the other side of the table. 

“Wrapping presents,” Harry said, cocking an eyebrow right back at him. 

The horrified look he received in return was almost enough to make him crack up. 

“Something wrong?” 

“ _Yes!_ ” Draco exclaimed, setting both of the mugs down on the table loudly. 

Harry blinked. 

“I wouldn’t call that _wrapping_ so much as _defiling_ ,” Draco said, eyes scanning the current gift-wrap situation. 

“Well, I know I’m not the best at it, but I don’t think it really matters _that_ much if it’s not perfect.” 

Draco stared at him, and where was a subtle change in his eyes. It reminded Harry of the time they’d been in the Room of Requirement together, and it’d been on fire. 

Harry’s brows furrowed. The silence dragged on.

After a few tense moments, he pushed the half wrapped present over to Draco’s side of the table. 

Draco tore off the insufficient gift wrap urgently. Once discarded, he grabbed one of the wrapping paper rolls from the edge of the table, and started unfurling it along the surface. 

“Hand me the scissors,” Draco said. Harry did as he was bid, also sliding over the tape anticipatorily. 

Harry watched, a cocktail of amused, concerned, and confused as Draco measured the box and started cutting the paper with worryingly aggressive movements of the scissors. 

“It’s bad enough you use _wrapping paper_ ,” Draco sneered. 

Harry frowned. 

“What else would I use?” 

“My mother used to use cabbage.” 

For a second, Harry’s brain short-circuited. Surely this wasn’t a wizarding holiday tradition that he’d missed? 

“Cabbage,” He repeated. 

Draco looked up, already with an unimpressed expression. 

“Not what you’re thinking, moron—the leftover scraps of fabric from sewing projects. Cabbage.” 

Harry snorted. 

“Why’s it called _cabbage_?”

“How the hell should I know? Why are you called _Harry_?” Draco retorted before his attention dropped back down to his task. 

Harry walked around the table and sood looking over his shoulder, watching as Draco’s hands moved quicker than Harry could really conceptualize. 

“I’d’ve imagined you’d just, you know, magic the presents wrapped.” 

Draco’s hands paused momentarily, though he did not look up. Harry studied the side of his face, noting the fact of its blankness. 

“Yes, well...why didn’t you use magic?” Draco said, even as he continued to wrap what was the third present. 

“I don’t know...it’s not the same. It feels...less deliberate or something,” Harry answered. 

“ _Wrapping-by-hand-because-you-_ care is so... _Muggle_ —and not in a good way. Magic is, arguably, just as deliberate. I don’t really understand the whole ‘ _magic is less personal’_ thing you and everyone else who grew up Muffle seem to have embedded into your brains. If anything, it’s _more_ personal, is it not? Magic takes skill. It comes from inside you, yes? It’s personal to you? So why is it suddenly less _meaningful_ if you do it with your own magic instead of your hands?” 

Harry slipped his arms around Draco’s waist towards the end of his rant. 

“I suppose…” Harry concurred amicably, hooking his chin over Draco’s shoulder, “this alright?” 

Draco hummed. 

“Yes,” He replied softly. 

Draco finished wrapping the current present, and set it to the side in the steadily growing done pile before pulling another—George’s—unwrapped gift towards him. This one was a novelty mug that was charmed to display a different insult on the bottom of the cup towards whoever the drinker is facing when they tipped it up to take a sip. Harry was intrigued to see how Draco would handle the mug. 

“I suppose she could have wrapped them by hand because she enjoyed it,” Draco continued thoughtfully after a moment, answering Harry’s previous question. 

Harry nodded. 

“You seem to enjoy it,” he said. 

Draco turned the section of shiny red paper he had cut at a forty-five degree angle, and placed the mug in the centre, pulling the corners to meet above it. 

“I need a ribbon,” Draco said. 

Harry rolled his eyes, and stepped away. He didn’t have any ribbon. He had wrapping paper, scissors, and rape. He thought the two different kinds of wrapping paper he did have was extra. So, he weathered the heat of Draco’s disgusted glare as he cut a ribbon width piece of the stripped wrapped paper, and handed it over. 

Draco took it, taking a moment to hold it at arm’s length and glare at it as well before using it to finish the wrapping job. It looked rather nice, Harry thought. He’d planned to just sort of roll the paper over the mug and tuck all the excess into it. 

Harry leaned over the table, finally grabbing the tea Draco had brought for him, and blowing across the top of it gently. 

Draco wrapped presents with the same intensity about himself as when he complained at Harry for leaving dishes on the bedside table, or when he was taking off his shoes, careful not to scuff them, or sorting his desk, or going through his nighttime routine…

Well, really, Draco wrapped presents like he did everything else. Harry really shouldn’t be surprised, huh? 

“Stop smiling at me, Potter.” 

“You’re adorable.’ 

“Shut up.” 

“You are.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Hm, okay.” 

Draco made a sour face, pushing the newly finished present to the side with the others, but instead of reaching for the next, he just stood there, staring at the table. 

Harry’s face fell. He rose up again, and took a step closer to Draco. 

“It’s alright,” Harry said, “I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Draco side-eyed him. 

“Shut up, Potter,” he muttered, and pulled another Weasley present toward him, unrolling wrapping paper and resuming the flurry of Christmas wrapping. 

It made Harry smile a bit again, though this time he hid it in his mug. How could suppress such a reaction when he was watching Draco Malfoy wrap a pair of Forever Warm socks for Charlie Weasley, with the most dour expression a Malfoy could managed upon his face? 

“Thank you, by the way,” Harry said eventually. 

“For what?” 

“Saving my Christmas gifts from being _defiled_ ,” he smirked. 

Draco chortled. He was silent for a few minutes, onto wrapping a box set of some custom knitting needles for Hagrid. They were magicked to be large enough for Hagrid’s especially large hands to wield easily, while doing the knitting of much smaller needles. Hagrid occasionally complained at not being able to pull off more delicate knitting work as well due to this problem, and Harry was ecstatic when he and Hermione found these in a catalogue for a magical knitting shop in Germany. 

“Should I have gotten presents for everybody?” Draco asked, not looking up. 

Harry shrugged. 

“Not unless you wanted to.” 

Draco sighed, exasperated. 

“I _meant_ , am I going to be seen as an arsehole for not having presents for everybody when I show up tomorrow?” 

“No,” Harry said. 

Draco looked unconvinced. Actually, he still wouldn’t look at Harry at all. 

Harry set his mug down and slipped his arms around him again. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked. 

Draco scoffed. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Harry said. 

“I got Molly Weasley a set of knitting needles with her initials engraved on.” 

“That’s good.” 

“You said she liked to knit.” 

“She does. more than her children would prefer, probably.” 

“They’re not too expensive.” 

“Alright.” 

“We were talking about that the other day. How it doesn’t have to be expensive. How it makes things uncomfortable sometimes.” 

“Yeah, no, that’s good, love.” 

“I didn’t want to make it weird.” 

“It won’t be weird.” 

“Will Weasley be mad if I give Hermione a present and not him?” 

“You’re closer to Hermione than you are Ron. You work with her sometimes. He shouldn’t be upset or anything. _No one_ will be upset about anything.” 

“But—” 

“Draco,” Harry said breathlessly, dropping his forehead to press between Draco’s shoulders. 

Draco stopped talking. 

Harry smiled. 

“ _Ador_ —” 

“ _Don’t_ , Potter.” 

“What?” 

“You’re being disgusting.” 

“Some people find me irresistibly charming.” 

“Perhaps you should go bother them, then.” 

“Then who would wrap my Christmas presents?” 

Draco sighed deeply, and tore off a piece of tape. Harry let him work in peace for a few minutes, going around the other side of the table again and watching with no real attempt at learning anything. 

“They _are_ fine with you coming, you know,” Harry said finally. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. 

“The Weasleys. They...well, they know it’s hard for you, too.” 

At that, Draco did look up, briefly, but with such a sudden sharp look in his eye that Harry physically felt the jolt as his brain frantically scrambled to backpedal and figure out where he went wrong. 

“Talk about me, then, do you?” Draco said, voice dangerously level and even toned. 

Slowly, Harry set his mug down. 

“Not...excessively…” 

“ _Mm_ , but... _exclusively?_ ” Draco asked, “meaning...you have.”

Draco’s eyes finally lifted from the present he had _still_ been wrapping, despite the ups and downs of the turbulent sea that was their conversation. 

“Well I don’t purposefully _not_ talk about you,” Harry said, eyes narrowing. 

“And what is it you _say_ about me?” Draco asked, mouth twisting. 

“For _fu_ —what is it you _think_ I say about you, Malfoy?” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed to practically slits. Harry waited, standing up straight with his arms crossed. When it became evident to Harry that this would not be one of those times where _he_ won the waiting/silent treatment/ stubborn bastard game, he released his arms with a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“What exactly am I _supposed_ to say when they ask about my life? ‘ _Oh, it’s fine’_ ? ‘ _Been great, won’t elaborate, how about you’_?” 

“You can tell them about your life, I just don’t understand why you have to tell them about _me_.” Draco said, voice raising near the end, gesturing towards himself and frowning. 

“You’re part of my life, Draco!” Harry said. 

Draco scoffed, looking away with an incredulous expression on his face. 

“What? Am I not a part of yours?” Harry asked, bitterness seeping into his voice. 

Draco stared down at the table. At the pile of perfectly wrapped Christmas presents, opposite the much smaller gathering of the ones still waiting to be packaged. 

“You are my life,” Draco said quietly. 

Harry felt all the tension bleed out of his body. His steps felt heavy as he walked around, again, to Draco’s side of the table. 

“And what makes you think you’re not mine?” 

Draco turned his head, fixing him with another hard look. 

“ _Please_ ,” he breathed sarcastically. 

Harry leaned back, affronted. 

“Please _what?_ ” 

“You can’t—” Draco broke off. He turned his head away sharply, and Harry frowned. 

On the table, Draco flipped his hand over where it had been resting palm down, and flexed his fingers. 

Harry took his hand, and squeezed their palms together. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, turning back to face Harry only once he’d already gotten the words out. 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said. 

Harry pulled him closer with a hand on his shoulder, and pressed an innocent kiss to his lips. When they broke apart, Draco squeezed his hand.

“Christmastime makes me horrible,” Draco muttered with a derisive roll of his eyes. 

Harry hummed, and wrapped the hand not holding Draco’s around his waist, pulling them flush together as if they were dancing. 

“I think it just makes you nervous. Does for a lot of people, I think,” Harry said. 

Draco lifted his free hand and tucked it under Harry’s arm to clasp the top of his shoulder from behind.

“Higher expectations during the holidays, right? Gifts to get, people to see, relatives to impress. And all the while you’re supposed to be filled to the brim with _Christmas Cheer_ , but really, everyone’s just three times as stressed...” Harry trailed off. While his bank of Happy Holiday memories was steadily growing by the year, he still had his share of rather Unhappy ones as well. 

Draco drew closer still and brushed their noses together. 

“I don’t want you to be stressed,” Draco murmured. 

“I don’t want _you_ to be,” Harry said back. “But I get it.” 

Draco sighed. 

“Look, I’ve had more than my share of rather shoddy Christmases, and I’ve decided that all Christmases from here on out, as long as I can help it, are to be as full of Cheer, Merriment, and as much fucking food as I can stuff into my face as possible, you hear me?” Harry said with mock seriousness, smiling at Draco, who bit his lip. 

“I’m not meaning to be such a downer,” he said. 

Harry stole another kiss from him. 

“Not what I meant, love. I mean, I’m going to make this Christmas good for you. For both of us. I would have opted out of going to the Burrow, or just dropped by myself for a bit this year if I thought it’d be weird at all. I don’t want you, or the Weasleys to feel pressured to _get along_ , or whatever.” 

Draco groaned. 

“When the hell did you get to be so bloody _emotionally intelligent_?” 

Harry smirked. 

“Someone’s got to navigate the waters of this relationship.” 

“Oh, so I’m emotionally _blind_ , am I?” Draco inquired with as much seriousness as he could muster with a bright grin splitting his cheeks.

“Well I do think it wouldn’t hurt for you to say sorry _first_ once in a while.” 

Draco sputtered quite genuinely at that. Harry just laughed. 

“I am going to make this Christmas good for you too,” Draco said after a moment. “Or, I’ll try at least, I don’t...well, I’m not very _good_ at cheerfulness and merriment, but…” Draco trailed off and sighed, smiling a bit when Harry squeezed him with the arm around his waist. 

“You wanna know how you can give me the best Christmas?” Harry asked. 

Draco raised a brow, awaiting the answer. Harry dropped his head to his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. 

“Just like this,” he said softly, nuzzling into Draco’s neck. 

Draco slapped the back of his shoulder lightly. 

“Sap,” he said, but Harry could see the corner of his mouth tugging up. Draco let him burrow into his sweater for a few moments more, pressing a few kisses to his temple, before tapping him. “Alright, release me or these will never get finished.” 

Harry made a displeased noise, but left Draco’s arms with a parting nip to the soft skin just below his ear, eliciting a startled gasp. Draco huffed as he turned back to his gift wrapping station. 

“And they say _I’m_ the indecent one.”

Harry laughed, and left him to it. There was one present hidden away in the back of their closet that Draco couldn’t help him wrap up. With Draco so occupied, now was a perfect time to see to it.


	2. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Weasleys are family goals.
> 
> (UPDATE: 12/23/2020, I changed my username to "femeris")

The Burrow was aglow with light from the outside; every window filled with warm, butter yellow, and strands of twinkling fairy lights wrapped around nearly the entire mass of it made the house a shining beacon. 

Harry blinked up at it for a moment, taken aback as always by the Burrow during Christmas, and turned to Draco. 

“Good?” Harry asked, holding out his arm. 

Draco scoffed, “Fine,” he responded, and took Harry’s arm, though the way his fingers dug into the inside of Harry’s elbows said enough. 

They walked to the front door like that. Harry was just raising his hand to knock when the door opened quite by itself, releasing a wave of warmth and sound that enveloped them immediately and practically ushered them in. Harry could already hear Molly’s laughter coming from somewhere inside. 

Harry stole a glance over at Draco, biting his lip when he saw the pale, blank expression on his face. 

“Come on, then,” he said softly, and flashed a reassuring smile when Draco looked over at him. 

They entered the Burrow. The door closed behind them. The smell of oranges and cloves, mixed with something warm and spicy, the sound of merry laughter and discussion emanating from multiple directions, all invaded Harry’s senses. It all felt like Home to him. Like threads all knitting together, and wrapping around him. But Harry could tell how nervous Draco was from how tightly he was still holding on to Harry’s arm. 

Harry had been to tea with Narcissa Malfoy all of twice, both times in her pristine sitting room with, in Harry’s opinion, too many reflective surfaces and too much empty space. There was a lack of scent, there. A lack of sound, muffled by carpets. It’d made Harry shake his knee nervously—well, that combined with Mrs. Malfoy’s accessing gaze. Draco hadn’t exactly seemed nervous that day, and, in that sitting room he’d leaned back in his chair, his face an achingly similar mirror of his mother’s, looking between her and Harry like he was waiting for something to break. It never really had—neither the tension, or the peace—but when they had finally left and stood outside on the sidewalk, Draco had shuddered, and stretched his shoulders back, like he was shaking something off. He’d looked over, and smiled at Harry then.  _ “That went well,”  _ he assured. Harry took his hand, and his word for it. 

Harry shook his head, dislodging memories. They deposited all their gifts at the door to retrieve later, and then Harry led them further inside the Burrow, towards the kitchen. Upon turning the corner, they found a gaggle of Weasleys. Molly was bustling around as usual, hurrying to get everything in order, oven mitts over her hands, ferrying countless dishes from oven to counter top to icebox to table. Ginny and Charlie were talking animatedly in the corner with a constant flurry of arm waves and hand gestures. George was trying to sneak one of the lingonberry bars set on the counter, grinning innocently when Molly batted his hand away. 

It was then that George looked up and saw the two non-gingers that had entered the room. His face lit up. 

“Harry!” He exclaimed. 

Everyone stopped and turned, bright smiles on their faces. 

“Harry, my boy!” Molly said, beaming as she pulled her oven mitts off and deposited them on the table on her way to approaching him. She pulled Harry into a bone crushing hug, when he returned with a laugh. 

“Happy Christmas, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, trying not to blush as she pulled back and put her hands on his cheeks, looking over his face, and hair, and clothes. 

“Ah, Happy Christmas, Harry! You look so well!” She said. 

Harry was then swept up by the other three Weasleys, each with their own breathless hug and merry tidings to give. 

When finally the chorus of Happy Christmases and pressed together cheeks had ended, Harry turned around to find Draco standing a bit behind the commotion, like a ship without an anchor. Harry felt his heart clench. He held his hand out for him. 

Draco hesitated, staring down at the hand before looking up to meet Harry’s eyes, uncertainty clear behind them. Harry smiled, and Draco took his hand. 

He pulled him closer, and turned back to Molly with a grin. 

Molly just smiled back. A second did not pass before she threw her arms out and attacked Draco with a hug that Harry knew from experience was rib-crushing. 

“Happy Christmas, dear! So glad you could make it!” She proclaimed, squeezing Draco tightly. 

Harry laughed at how wide Draco’s eyes had flown open, and how he put his arms around Mrs. Weasley with come uncertainty, eyes finding Harry’s and expressing a million panicked questions in that one furtive glance. 

“Happy Christmas,” Draco said finally, as Molly released him. 

The example set for everyone else, the other Weasleys’ present offered pleasant smiles, and Ginny knocked shoulders with Harry. 

“Alright, now, you two go out into the living room and visit while you wait for me to call everyone for dinner, now, I still have a million things to do! Go on!” She waved them off, smiling as she went back to her business of chefery, followed by George under the pretense of helpfulness, but mostly to pilfer goods. 

Harry took Draco’s hand again, and followed Ginny and Charlie out into the living room where the rest were already, and their arrival was announced. 

Ron and Hermione came over first, from where they had been next to the tree, examining the active ornaments whizzing and moving and generally wrecking their own tiny, contained chaos. 

“Have you seen mum yet? She’ll be annoyed if you don’t say hello to her first,” Ron said with a grin in lieu of greeting. 

“Yeah, we came from the kitchen just now,” Harry replied, pulling Ron into an embrace, slapping him on the shoulder. “Alright?” He asked. 

“‘Course. You?” 

Harry was grateful to Hermione, beside them, who was mediating a greeting between Draco and Arthur. They were shaking hands, and smiling, so it seemed to be going well. 

“Yeah,” Harry answered Ron, a relieved smile on his face. 

“You work in the Curse-Breaking department of St. Mungo’s, don’t you, now, Draco?” 

Draco nodded. 

“Yes sir,” he responded. 

“I actually end up working with Draco from time-to-time, as most of the cases that make it to my office usually involve some sort of curse-related injury,” Hermione supplied. 

Ron rolled his eyes. 

“ _ Please  _ don’t get her started. It’s  _ Christmas _ .” 

Hermione slapped Ron’s shoulder lightly in rebuke. 

And then Harry was accosted by a screeching, blue-haired creature barreling into him. Harry laughed, sweeping Teddy up into his arms and squishing him into a tight hug. 

“Hey, kid!” Harry greeted. Teddy clung to his neck with the same ferocity he did everyone else. The kid did not mess around with his hugs. 

“It’s Christmas, Harry!” Teddy exclaimed loudly right next to his ear. 

“Oh, no way?” Harry argued, raising an eyebrow. Teddy nodded vigorously. 

“Uh-huh, and guess what? Nana said we can open presents after we eat!” Teddy said, wiggling around, unable to contain his excitement. 

“Yeah? And where’s Nana?” 

“Right here.” 

Harry looked up, catching Andromeda’s smile as she walked towards them. 

“Hi, Andi,” Harry grinned, letting Teddy wiggle out of his arms and into Draco’s. He turned to watch the boy plant a big kiss on the side of Draco’s face, and cling to him in a hug, and had the pleasure of watching Draco melt. 

Draco wasn’t overly fond of children—neither was Harry, to be perfectly honest—but Teddy was  _ His Children _ , as it were, and Draco would listen to any rambling story Teddy had to tell for hours. 

“How are you?” Andromeda asked, pulling Harry in for her own hug, which Harry gratefully returned. Teddy and Andromeda were the closest family left he had of Sirius, Remus, and Tonks. 

“We’re great,” Harry replied softly, and pulled back to ask her the same. 

“Oh, never a dull moment with  _ this  _ one,” Andromeda replied with a smile towards Teddy, who was whispering none-too-quietly to Draco about all his Christmas present predictions. 

“Harry, Harry—!” Teddy exclaimed, pulling on his sweater to get his attention, “—am I coming over to your house on Boxing Day?” He inquired seriously, looking between Harry and Draco, expression making it clear that there was only one acceptable answer. 

“Not stopping the tradition now, hm?” Draco replied. 

Teddy grinned, and then squirmed to get down from his arms. 

“Weren’t you going to help Mrs. Weasley set the table?” Andromeda asked, which sent Teddy rocketing off towards the kitchen. 

“Hyperactive today, are we?” Draco asked. 

“George snuck him three pumpkin macarons when we first got here,” Andromeda chuckled, before turning fully towards them. “Still good to take him for the week?” She asked. 

“‘Course,” Harry said, slipping his hand around Draco’s lower back and pulling him closer. 

“Where are you off to this year?” Draco asked. 

“Germany, I believe...or, possibly Spain. I haven’t decided yet,” Andromeda said. Harry laughed. 

“Send us a postcard, yeah?” He asked. Andromeda smiled at him in response. 

“Mum says it’s time to eat!” Charlie called out from the doorway into the dining room. 

“Things do happen... _ suddenly _ ...around here,” Draco murmured as everyone started heading towards the dining room. 

“It’s pretty chaotic, yeah,” Harry responded amicably, ushering him forwards. 

They ended up sitting somewhere in the middle of the table, Ron and Hermione on Harry’s side, Charlie next to Draco. 

The first few minutes of dinner was a frenzy of dishes being passed around in no particular order or system. Harry was quite sure things arrived on his plate that he never put there...actually, he wasn’t entirely sure the plate that ended up in front of him was the original plate he started out with at all. 

He glanced over at Draco, looking a bit paler than usual. Harry could understand. The Weasley brand of family meals—no matter how normal or fairly commonplace it might seem to other people—could be overwhelming if you weren’t used to it. Harry nudged him. 

“Just like Hogwarts, huh?” he asked. 

Draco nudged him back, and took a roll from the plate offered to him. 

“Molly, these potatoes are absolutely  _ golden _ ,” Andromeda commented after tasting a bite. 

“Oh, thank you! You know I grow them myself out back? Nothing like your own home grown veggies!” 

“Are potatoes vegetables?” Ginny piqued up. 

“Yeah, no! They’re roots, aren’t they?” Ron posed as both an answer and question, looking around for someone more knowledgeable on the subject. 

“Yeah, they’re a starch. Like rice,” said Arthur. 

“No, no. They’re vegetables,” said Hermione. 

“But they grow underground!” argued Ron. 

“So do carrots,” retorted Ginny.

“Potatoes  _ are  _ vegetables, for Merlin’s sake, great service herbology did  _ you all _ ,” Percy said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Either way, they’re very tasty! Thank you, Molly, for cooking this wonderful meal,” Arthur said, thus setting off a chorus of  _ thank-yous _ that cycled through the whole table. Molly flushed, and waved her hand dismissively. 

“Well, I find it no hardship! Happy Christmas everyone!” 

“ _ Happy Christmas _ !” Thus becoming the new chorus heard ‘round the table. 

A few quiet moments of food consumption passed next, small conversations piquing up across the table, when suddenly Bill’s voice carried a little louder. 

“Are you kidding? The Ballycastle Bats don’t stand a chance next season!” Bill exclaimed. 

He had been, evidently, talking Quidditch with Oliver and Percy. 

“Well, not now that Ginny’s one of the Harpies, no, eh?” Oliver responded, winking over at her. 

The statement sent up a short round of cheers. Charlie reached across the table to jostle his sister’s shoulder with a grin. Ginny’s face flushed red as her hair. 

“Eh, Ginny or no Ginny, I’m still rooting for the Cannons,” Ron interjected. 

“Lovely, Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“What about you, what’s your team, Draco?” Charlie asked with a bright-eyed grin towards him. 

Draco, cup halfway to his mouth, paused and did  _ not  _ blanch at the number of eyes that were suddenly all on him. He glanced towards Ginny. 

“Holyhead Harpies,” he replied, raising his glass towards her. 

A second cheer lifted from the table. 

“Good answer!” Bill declared with a laugh. Draco offered him a smile. Bill’s eyes went wide. “Hey! I got the first one!” He exclaimed, pumping his fists in the air. Draco’s brow furrowed in confusion as the table went up in more enthusiastic shouts and excited exclamations. 

“Oh, well done, mate,” Harry told him with a laugh, and Draco turned to fix him with a narrow-eyed questioning look. Harry nudged him. “That’s the first time you’ve smiled tonight.” 

Draco’s cheeks went pink. 

Charlie laughed good-naturedly, and jostled their shoulders together.

Conversations quickly moved on to other things, life events and future plans and what everyone was doing tomorrow. Bill and Fleur had just gotten back from France. The baby was due mid-January. Percy was doing well at work, but had taken the next two weeks off to go see Oliver’s family at a cabin up North. George was actually going down to see Angelina on Boxing Day, much to the good-natured jeers of his family. 

“You know Draco, you strike me as somewhere between a Swedish Short-Snout and a Ukrainian Ironbelly,” Charlie commented conversationally. 

Draco blinked over at him. 

“Um...thank you?” He asked. 

Ginny, across the table, snorted. 

“He does this to everybody. Assigns them dragons.” 

Draco looked at Charlie again. 

“And what are you?” 

Charlie smiled. 

“You know, not a lot of people ask that,” he said. “Probably a Romanian Longhorn, for a multitude of reasons. For one, they’re the reason why Romania is  _ the  _ location for dragon study in the world—” 

After dinner, and when Teddy had all but made it clear that the opening of presents absolutely  _ could not  _ wait a moment longer, the Weasleys plus the interlopers of the evenings made their way back into the living room. 

Harry and Draco took a slight detour to collect their presents from the entry hall, and deposit them beside all the others under the tree. 

Teddy and George assigned themselves as Gift-Passer-Outters, as everyone else found a spot to sit. 

Harry and Draco claimed a small couch. Ron and Hermione sat on the floor in front of them as the other couches and chairs were filled up. 

Draco began wringing his fingers nervously as gifts were handed out. Harry placed a hand on top of his to stop him. He wasn’t sure Draco was completely convinced that there was no test or expectations in the gifts. That even if something truly  _ was  _ subpar, no one would care. Everyone would be happy anyway. It wouldn’t be some great, devastating insult that got you uninvited to any further family gatherings. 

But Harry also got how those types of things—the things you’re born into. The things you’re raised on—stick with you. No matter how much you know it’s not true, you just can’t quite convince yourself of it. 

Case in point when Harry took Hermione’s gift to him with a smile, then stared down at it in his hands like a fool who didn’t know what to do with it. 

It was wrapped in magical paper. Snowflakes fluttered gently across it in soft flurries. He brushed his thumbs over the smooth paper while the somewhat aggressive sound of similar wrappings being torn apart sounded all around him. 

He felt Draco’s gaze on him, and then his hands that came to rest over his own, like Harry’s had for Draco before. 

“Go on, darling,” he said quietly, close to Harry’s ear. 

Harry felt heat rising to his face, that he needed bloody  _ permission  _ to open a gift...but mostly he felt a sharp twinge of sadness and regret in his gut, for the boy under the stairs who never got any Christmas presents. Who never had anybody to treat him like he deserved to be treated until he was eleven years old. 

Draco slid his hands up Harry’s arms, and rested his head against his temple, watching him open the gift. It was a nice, leather, removable wand holster for long-sleeved muggle shirts. Harry smiled at the practical gift, and leaned down towards Hermione, tapping her shoulder to get her attention and then thanking her with a kiss to her cheek. Then he turned, and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Draco’s mouth, assuring him that all was well. 

What wrecks they were, eh? 

“Oh, Harry, these are so nicely wrapped!” Mrs. Weasley gushed, holding a present from Harry. 

Draco shot Harry a smug look. 

“Draco wrapped them, actually,” Harry said. 

Draco’s smugness morphed instantly to panic as eyes turned to him. 

Ron looked up to survey the scene. 

“Ah, almost as much of a bloody perfectionist as ‘Mione,” he chortled. 

Hermione slapped his shoulder lightly. 

“I think the word you’re looking for is  _ efficient _ , Ron,” she said. 

Draco seemed to relax as lighthearted laughter fluttered throughout the room, and the topic was moved on from easily in favor of more gift opening. Harry squeezed his shoulder, and shot him a grin. 

“Oh, this is beautiful, Teddy!” Andromeda declared as she opened Teddy’s gift, a hand painted mug. Teddy giggled, and shot into her embrace when she opened her arms for him. 

Soon, Draco presented Harry with a box. Wrapped in white parcel paper ( _ Not  _ cabbage, as Harry was sure to attack him for later) and tied up with satin ribbon. 

Harry smiled at him, and took out his own present for Draco from his pocket. 

Draco simply stared at it with a confused look. 

“Harry Potter, did you wrap my Christmas gift in a sock?”

“It’s an inside joke. Inside jokes show care,” Harry answered. 

Thankfully, Draco laughed. He took the bundled up sock, and from it slipped the little wooden box. Draco glanced up furtively, an inkling of panic behind his pretty eyes. 

Harry nodded towards the box in encouragement. 

Slowly, as if afraid it would leap to life and bite him, Draco opened it. 

He seemed to relax when he saw what it was. Honesty, did he think Harry would get him something  _ that  _ awful? Harry shook his head, and paid attention to Draco’s current expression which was...completely melted. 

“Harry…” Draco said, staring at the pearl drop earrings Harry painstakingly picked out at the jewelry counter. The pristine pearls dangling from the diamond studs were markedly more sparkly than Draco’s current plain silver studs he usually wore in his pierced ears, and Harry thought he might like to have the option of something fancier when the mood struck him. 

“Thank you,” he said, setting the box beside them and turning to wrap Harry up in a hug. “I love them. They’re gorgeous.” 

Harry grinned, sweeping his hand down Draco’s back. 

“I’m glad you like them,” he said quietly. 

Draco leaned back to look at him, holding his face between his hands to kiss him gently. 

“I do,” he said. 

Draco went about switching his current earrings out for the new pair while Harry took up his present from Draco from his lap. He honestly had no idea what it might have been. Draco was always so good at getting gifts. He always thought of the perfect thing—usually something Harry didn’t even know he wanted, but proceeded to use or enjoy all the time. 

Harry ripped the paper open, and then removed the lid from the box underneath to reveal—a camera. 

“It’s a magic one, obviously,” Draco said. 

Harry looked up at him. 

“I know how much you love the photographs you have of your parents, and that one of you and Hermione and Weasley...I thought maybe you’d like to take some yourself.” 

It was Harry’s turn to melt. 

He set the box down, and kissed him. 

“You’re amazing,” he said. 

Draco went pink. 

“It’s just a camera, Potter,” he muttered, looking away. 

Harry stole another kiss. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“You’re welcome,” Draco said, pleased look on his face all but demanding another kiss. He laughed, and pushed Harry away. “Alright, let us remain decent,” Draco said quietly. 

“Mm, well, I  _ am  _ the indecent one, apparently,” Harry said. 

Draco shot him a look, and shoved another present at his chest. Harry laughed, and took the present from him. 

“This one’s from Teddy,” Draco said of the suspiciously mug-shaped present, grinning over at him. 

“Well, I wonder what it could be,” Harry said, and got ready to pretend to be more amazed than he ever had been in his life. 

Teddy squeezed Harry and Draco’s legs tight in a joint hug, before Andromeda swept him up into her arms, rubbing his newly Weasley-sweatered belly. 

“You’ll see them in two days, my love,” Andromeda chuckled.

“That’s a long time!” Teddy cried. 

“Not so much,” Harry assured, patting his back.

Teddy shot him and Draco a pitiful look with big wet eyes. 

“And we can make a gingerbread house?” He asked. 

Harry shared a look with Draco as they both pretended to consider this weighty request. 

“We can make a gingerbread house,” Harry agreed. 

Teddy sniffed miserably, “okay…” he concurred. 

They laughed, and Teddy perked up again. 

Andromeda shot them smiles. 

“Goodnight everybody,” she said to the room at large. “Happy Christmas!” 

“Happy Christmas,” Draco responded, letting Andromeda hug him goodbye before she turned to Harry. 

Andromeda smiled at him, and pulled him in. 

“Sirius would be very proud of you, you know,” she said in his ear, before leaning back. 

It took Harry off guard, made him blink several times as tears sprung abruptly to his eyes. 

Andromeda’s eyes watered herself. 

“He’d be very  _ happy  _ for you,” she said, patting his cheek. 

Harry inhaled shakily, and smiled, nodding for lack of words to say. 

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Andromeda said. 

“Happy Christmas, Andromeda,” Harry said, and pulled her in for another hug, Teddy caught between them, but still for a moment. 

And then they pulled away, and she turned to leave with Teddy in tow. 

They waved goodbye one last time before Andromeda threw the ash down, and called out her address in a clear voice. 

Harry breathed out, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

Draco grabbed his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly.

For a moment, it was all he could do to stand up straight. 

And then he remembered Sirius’s face. Smiling at him. His mum, his dad, and Remus. There in the woods that night, with him. And it was enough to make him smile, and squeeze Draco’s hand tighter and reassure the concerned look off his face. 

“He’s got the both of you wrapped around his little finger, you know,” Hermione commented with a soft smile, joining them near the fireplace. 

Draco brushed some ash left over from Andromeda and Teddy’s departure from his sleeve, still holding onto Harry’s hand with his free one. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. 

“Of course not,” Hermione snickered, and handed both Draco and Harry glasses of spiked cider. “Now that little ones are away…” she drew. 

Harry laughed, and took his offered drink and Draco took his as well. 

“Yeah,  _ you  _ don’t have to apparate all the way to London later,” he said, taking a small sip. 

Hermione lowered her glass with a furrowed brow.

“London?” She inquired. 

“Dropping by Pansy and Luna’s,” Harry replied. 

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. 

“ _ You’re _ going to one of Pansy and Luna’s Christmas Eve parties?” Hermione asked with no small measure of disbelief. 

“We’re  _ dropping by _ ,” Draco said, chortling, raising his glass to his lips. 

“We don’t stay for the activities,” Harry grinned, “don’t need anyone else seeing my bits,” he said.

“Who’s seeing whose bits?” Ginny asked as she walked into the room with her own drink. 

Harry, Draco, and Hermione turned to include her, though Draco and Hermione had both flushed similar shades of red. 

“Everyone at Luna and Pansy’s Christmas party,” Harry answered. 

“I think it’s called an  _ ancient blessings ritual _ ,” Draco said. 

“Ah,” Ginny snickered. “Are you two going?” 

“Just to say hi and drop off our gifts to the girls,” Harry said. 

“Shame. Maybe next year,” Ginny said, taking a sip of her drink. 

Harry, Draco, and Hermione’s eyes all went wide. 

“ _ You’re going to Luna and Pansy’s Christmas party?! _ ” Hermione exclaimed. 

Ginny laughed at their scandalized faces. 

“Oh, don’t be so shocked. Not my fault the two of  _ you  _ both turned sixteen and sixty-seven simultaneously,” Ginny said nodding towards Hermione and Draco, who startled with no small amount of indignation, before turning on Harry, “and you’re about as sexually adventurous as vanilla ice cream.” 

Harry sputtered. 

“My  _ adventurousness _ is no concern of yours!” He said lowly, looking around frantically for Mrs. Weasley, as though she were about to appear wielding a wooden spoon. 

Ginny laughed. 

“These parties are safe, though, aren’t they?” Hermione asked, unable to fight her mother-henning for a moment longer, it seemed. 

Ginny set her hand on her arm. 

“ _ Ye-es _ ,  _ mum _ ,” Ginny said with a grin, “I’ve been assured that everyone there is a trustworthy friend, and carefully vetted. And not just for nargles,” Ginny winked. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Anyway, I’m going back to the kitchen. Want anything?” Ginny asked, glancing at everyone. 

“I’ll go with you. I want to take a look at the options,” Hermione said. 

“I’m good,” Harry said with a wave of his hand. 

Ginny paused, waiting for Draco’s response. 

“Oh, no, thank you, I’m fine,” he said. 

Ginny nodded, and she and Hermione went off in the direction of the kitchen. 

Draco turned back towards the mantle, inspecting the photographs there. The Weasleys in various combinations and ages smiled back at him. 

“Is this how normal families are?” He mused, looking over the pictures. 

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know,” he answered easily. 

“It seems...unlikely,” said Draco. 

“The Dursleys were this happy. Excluding me.” 

Draco glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Families aren’t allowed  _ exclusions _ ,” he retorted. 

Harry smiled wistfully. 

“Yeah,” he said, and nodded towards the photograph of him, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, and Percy. The only one who ever looked towards the frame the entire photo-loop was Percy, the rest of them were laughing and joking as Fred and George play-fought to be in front of each other. “I know.” 

Draco smiled softly at the photo. He leaned into Harry, accepting the arm that looped around his middle. Slowly, his smile fell as they kept perusing the photographs. 

“My parents loved me.” 

“I know, love,” Harry said, frowning at him for a moment, taking in his furrowed brow. That quizzical expression on his face tore a hole through Harry. 

“They aren’t bad peo—” Draco stopped. For a long minute, he just looked lost. Then, he looked down into his drink, swirling the amber-colored liquid around. 

“They weren’t bad parents…” He finished finally. 

Harry nodded, not arguing with him. He pulled him closer and kissed his head. 

“Oh, and thank you again, dear, for that lovely set of knitting needles!” 

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco answered, ducking his head, though that was not enough to hide the pink tinge to his cheeks. 

“You know you boys are always welcome here, don’t you? Even if all you need is a cup of sugar, or just a nice cup of tea someplace quiet—” Mrs. Weasley cut herself off, and laughed to herself, shaking her head, “—well, a nice cup of tea someplace  _ warm  _ at least...never hesitate to stop by, alright?” 

Harry smiled at her, feeling that familiar melting feeling he’d recently been allowing himself to feel, instead of just awkward or uncomfortable. 

“I know, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you.” 

Mrs. Weasley pulled him in for one last hug, and Harry lingered, holding the woman who’d all but been his surrogate mother for so long as tight as she held him. 

“ _ Good _ ,” she answered him, rubbing his shoulder. 

“Goodnight,” Harry said, as they left the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley watched them step off the porch before closing the door with one last parting wave. 

Harry and Draco headed further away from the house, towards their apparition point. Though it was darker and colder than when they first arrived a few hours ago, they were still filled with the food and warmth they’d consumed inside, and they hardly felt the weather. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” Harry asked as they stopped, reaching up to poke at one of Draco’s new earrings. 

Draco batted his hand away. 

“I did,” Draco answered. “I don’t know what I expected, but...” 

“Yeah, I get that,” Harry said. 

“They’re...good people,” Draco said, looking down and fiddling with the end of his scarf. “Especially to let me, of all people, in like that…” 

Harry lifted a hand to Draco’s cheek, tilting his head up to catch his eyes again. 

“ _ You _ …” Harry said, looking into Draco’s misty grey eyes and smiling, “are stunning.” 

Draco gave him a smile. Around them, snow was starting to flutter down gently around them, like Hermione’s enchanted wrapping paper, and Draco was illuminated by the soft yellow glow of the Burrow’s lights behind them. Harry tried to burn the image into his memory...when he remembered he didn’t have to. 

He stopped, and dug into the box under his arm, taking out his new camera. 

“What are you doing?” Draco asked. 

“Smile!” Harry said, raising the camera to his eye and finding Draco through the sight. 

Draco shifted uncomfortably. 

“Harry, what—” 

“Oh come on!” Harry said, lowering the camera for a moment to shoot him an exasperated look. 

Draco smiled again at his antics, and Harry rose the camera again quickly to snap the photo before Draco’s smile could drop. 

“Gotcha!” Harry declared. 

Draco gasped at the flash that blinded him momentarily, making him blink several times. Then, he laughed. 

Harry grinned at him, and put the camera back into its box. 

“Ready, then?” Draco asked. 

Harry nodded. 

“Now I am.” 

Draco nodded, and held out his arm. 

“You good to apparate?” Harry asked, remembering the couple of drinks he’d had. 

Draco took a second to consider, then nodded. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” 

“Alright,” Harry said, and took his arm. 

Draco, however, paused for a moment, looking at him. 

“I love you, you know,” he said. 

Harry took his hand, and lifted it to his mouth, placing a kiss against his cold knuckles. 

“I know. I love you too.” 

Then, he braced himself for the displacement of disapparation, and let Draco quite literally (and magically) sweep him off his feet.


End file.
